


Come Down

by LoversAntiquities



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Asexual Castiel, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you remember last month when you were browsing that website?” Dean’s face flushes red just at the mention, his attempt to hide himself only amusing Castiel further. That website had been saved in his laptop’s bookmarks for the better half of a year, and the only chance he had to visit it outside of hunts had been a month ago when supposedly, Castiel and Sam were across Lebanon looking at a scrapped Cadillac. Only, Castiel had returned just in time to see Dean browsing for sex toys in the privacy of his own bedroom.</p><p>And since, every chance Castiel gets, he helps Dean pick one out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Down

Dean’s asleep when Castiel comes in, socked feet padding across decades old hardwood floors, almost no sound to his step. Dean almost never hears him when he’s wandering around, his presence marked solely by the swish of his coat if he wears it, and sometimes by the faint chimes Dean has come to associate with the air moving through his wings. He’s still yet to see them, and Castiel has been living with them for a while now, mostly in the room adjacent to his own and next to Sam’s, but sometimes in Dean’s own. Dean’s room is a quiet place, a _peaceful_ one. Sanctuary—he understands why Castiel stays there just as much as he himself does, whether it be in the morning or during the later hours of the evening. Castiel even sleeps there, when the exhaustion wears bone deep and the dreams keep him awake. Dean hates those nights the most, hates how distraught Castiel gets, how restless his limbs are when Dean tucks him close, keeps him still until he nods off.

Last night had been one of their better ones. The last Dean could remember, Castiel had been curled around him, their legs tangled in a mess of limbs and heat, Castiel’s arms around his waist at all hours. Now, Dean’s alone in his memory foam, absently wiping the sleep from his eyes while Castiel putters around, setting a plastic bag by the desk. Peeking, he notices Castiel’s wearing pajamas now, pants slung low on his hips, shirt a size too big. He needs new clothes—Castiel always swears he’s more comfortable like that, when he doesn’t feel like he’s overheating in three layers of clothing. Maybe it’s because he’s more of a _human_ now than he is an Angel, that he can feel things. He eats, sleeps, showers—binge watches television like it’s going out of style.

And Dean wouldn't have it any other way.

“You’re up late,” Castiel remarks once Dean manages to open his eyes, blearily staring at the ceiling before closing them again. It’s warm indoors, winter creeping in sooner than expected; last night, snow had begun to fall. A few flakes dot Castiel’s hair. “Sam and I drove to Hastings while you were sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“’S fine,” Dean mumbles. He rolls over onto his stomach, tugging the covers further over him until only his head is visible, hair a disheveled mess. Another few minutes, and he _might_ consider leaving the bed; his bladder’s already begging. “Thought we weren’t going shopping until next week.”

“It _is_ next week,” Castiel grouses; Dean smothers a laugh into his pillow. After a while, Castiel’s shuffling ceases, his weight joining Dean on the bed shortly after, limbs bracketing his prone frame. “Morning, Dean,” Castiel whispers belatedly and presses a kiss just below his ear, enough pressure to catch Dean’s attention.

Dean smiles and lifts his head, lets Castiel kiss the corner of his lips, knowing full and well the promise held there. “Mornin’, Cas,” he replies, mirthful. “You got somethin’ on your mind today?”

“Do you remember last month when you were browsing that website?” Dean’s face flushes red just at the mention, his attempt to hide himself only amusing Castiel further. _That_ website had been saved in his laptop’s bookmarks for the better half of a year, and the only chance he had to visit it outside of hunts had been a month ago when _supposedly_ , Castiel and Sam were across Lebanon looking at a scrapped Cadillac. Only, Castiel had returned just in time to see Dean browsing for _sex toys_ in the privacy of his own bedroom.

And since, every chance Castiel gets, he helps Dean pick one out. This week is special. “Are you sayin’ it came in?”

At that, Dean turns over and sits up, letting the sheets fall away from his chest. Castiel abandons him long enough to fish a small box from the plastic bag on the table, probably shoved in there after their shopping expedition earlier in the day. Dean takes a pocketknife to the packing tape after Castiel hands it over, fishing out the matte black box from inside. It’s thicker than he pictured when he works it out of the box, the thick black c-shape of it almost intimidating. “I stopped by the post office on our way home. I figured you would want to try it out,” Castiel suggests and leans over to kiss his cheek, his lips lingering there. No push, no shove—it’s up to Dean to decide.

He laughs, shifting the weight of the vibrator in his hands. They have batteries in the drawer, and more than enough lube to have a good time with. Most of the time it’s with the toys they’ve begun to amass since their extensive list of hunts has slowed to a twice-a-month deal, or sometimes just Castiel’s fingers, teasing him for minutes on end. Castiel likes to feel him, get him off without anything expected in return; it bothered Dean at first, not knowing whether Castiel’s lack-of-erection was because of _him_ or because Castiel just wasn't interested.

Neither, as he learned. Castiel may not get hard, but he’s _more_ than interested in seeing just how far he can take Dean before he breaks. The toys aren’t the same thing as a warm, flesh-and-blood cock—sometimes, they’re even better. “I gotta piss first,” Dean complains after Castiel kisses him again, this time on the lips, wet with intent. “Can you get that thing ready?”

“Of course,” Castiel tells him between kisses. It’s enough of a distraction for him to ignore the pressure in his bladder, at least for the time being. For now, Castiel feels good against him, warm through his clothes, hair cold at the tips from the snow yet still feather soft, almost impossibly so. “I thought you said you were leaving,” Castiel murmurs after a while, too busy sucking a dark mark on Dean’s neck to care about how loud Dean is moaning, probably audible through the door. Sam better be somewhere far, far away.

“I can’t when you keep kissing me,” Dean chuckles.

Castiel finally releases him after a shove and occupies himself with digging the batteries out of the bedside table drawer, all while Dean worms his way into a pair of pajama pants, reluctantly leaving the warmth of his room. He cleans out the best he can and showers, lets the warm water wash away the night and the nervous anticipation that runs through him, like it always does before they do _this_. Sleeping with Castiel hadn’t been his first foray into anything remotely gay, thanks to those few years after Sam left for California, but this was the first time it actually _meant_ something. That actual _feelings_ were involved, and actually requited. It’s such a new concept, being loved—he’ll never get over that, the way Castiel touches him now, freely; the way they kiss without interruption, without having to hide it; the way they share space without having to hide from the words they couldn't say before.

Now, Castiel tells him with his very existence every time they’re in the same room. He’s on Dean’s bed when he returns, testing the vibrator’s different speeds, the loudest even audible across the room. “Feel like you’re gonna break my ass,” he says with a smirk; Castiel hides his own smile, just barely. Once the door is shut and locked behind him, Dean strips off the towel from over his shoulders and tosses it to Castiel, afterwards shucking his pajama pants to reveal his cock, already half hard from just thinking about Castiel’s hands on him.

Castiel leads Dean to bed and sprawls him out atop his discarded towel, still slightly damp from the shower. It’s not comfortable, but he’ll forget about it soon; easier to clean up afterwards. He doesn’t plan to wash sheets until later that week, anyway. “I doubt something this small will break you,” Castiel chides, tapping his thighs open with both hands. “Though, it’s certainly faster than anything we own.”

The thought sends a thrill through his belly, his cock twitching with interest on his stomach. Dean spreads his legs in invitation, crossing his arms behind his head. Castiel doesn't want him to touch himself, not like this. They’ve been experimenting lately, trying to see if Dean can come without touching his cock; all attempts in the last month have failed, even despite how close he came yesterday morning, so close to the edge but unable to give in, even with Castiel’s expert fingers coaxing him to near-climax in record time.

Today— _today_ , he’s determined to do it. “C’mon,” Dean moans and bares himself, head turned to one side, barely hiding the blush creeping up his chest. “Wanna do it now.”

Castiel kisses below his ear in praise and works his way between Dean’s legs, letting them fall open in his lap. He’s vulnerable like this, he knows—but Castiel would never hurt him, never _dare_ do anything that could possibly injure him in any way. Never once has Castiel pushed him into any situation that might have made him even the slightest bit uncomfortable, and never once has he ever left Dean on his own after an orgasm, no matter how intense. In a way, he’s grateful for Castiel’s constant attention and just how thorough he is, drawing out Dean’s pleasure while not needing his own.

Then again, Castiel’s Grace probably gets off on watching him just as much.

Settling, he listens to Castiel pop the cap to the lube bottle and pour the liquid onto his fingers, spreading it over his hole in slow, taunting drags. He’s fluttering open by the time Castiel pushes in to the first knuckle, wet and teasing as he pulls it out, easing him into it. In the past, just the idea of fingering himself open got him off, the feel of his own or even someone else’s fingers inside him, spreading him open, pushing him over the edge before he could properly get something inside him. Now, Castiel takes his time and works him up to it, never too much pressure, never anything more than a tease.

“You’re so warm,” Castiel comments after a while, finally adding a second finger, his other hand rubbing up the inside of Dean’s thigh, a gentle brush.

Dean’s hard now, cock curled up tight and weeping, twitching when Castiel rubs over his prostate; just the barest hint of pressure leaves him moaning, mouth open in a soft gasp. His hands twitch behind his head, the itch to reach down and stroke himself almost sentient, a living thing in his chest. But he can be still—he can _do_ this, for Castiel. “Please,” he says, barely more than a breath. “ _Please_ , Cas—.”

Castiel shushes him with a kiss to his hip, hiding a smirk there. “You’re not ready,” Castiel tells him; Dean gasps at the loss when Castiel pulls away, only to lay next to him on his side, letting his lube slicked fingers trace the his balls, drawing up reflexively at his touch. “How was that?” he asks, smug with himself.

Dean resists the urge to push him away, instead smiling into Castiel’s hair when Castiel kisses his shoulder, tongue tracing over the scarring there. “Felt nice,” Dean admits, not even bothering to hide his shame. “It’d feel better if you got ‘em back in me though.”

A laugh, followed by another kiss. “You’re insistent,” Castiel comments, mirthful. With the first press of Castiel’s fingers inside of him again, Dean moans, head tilted back. Castiel holds one of his legs open by the knee, letting his fingers sink in deeper, twisting and writhing in Dean’s ass. He hisses out “ _Fuck_ , Cas,” when Castiel laps at his nipple, his hot, wet tongue laving over the peaked nub in quick flicks, all in time with the rhythm of his fingers, now rubbing incessantly over his prostate.

He almost comes on the spot.

Sensing the new tension, Castiel lets up and removes his fingers, idly stroking Dean’s twitching rim. “You almost came,” Castiel muses with a grin. This time, Dean actually _does_ shove him, nudging Castiel with his shoulder. “You’re beautiful when you lose yourself like that.”

“Got you to thank for that,” he says, winded but genuine. There’s something different about this morning, and they haven’t even gotten the toy inside him yet. Maybe it's the way Castiel touches him now: constantly sucking marks into his shoulder and up to his neck, teasing his rim with his fingertips, nipping that spot beneath his ear that never fails to make him squirm. All of it makes his cock twitch and spill, a sizeable puddle now formed on his belly; Castiel runs his hand through the mess and dances his fingers over Dean’s cockhead, Dean chewing his lip when Castiel starts to stroke him in quick jerks. “Stop, _stop_ ,” he hisses just as his balls begin to rise; Castiel’s hand leaves him, hovering, still so close.

It’s a challenge, after that. Castiel brings him to the edge just from fisting his cockhead, pulling off long enough for Dean to calm down, then repeating the process. He’s gripping the sheets by the time Castiel finally lets up, Castiel stringing kisses along his neck in the aftermath. “Beautiful,” he says, running his clean hand through Dean’s sweat-soaked hair, mouthing at his temple. Dean swallows, still struggling to breathe; his cock lays on his stomach, abandoned and throbbing. One more touch and he could come—if only Castiel would _let_ him. “Do you think you’re ready now?”

“Just, gimme a minute,” Dean says in compromise. His nerves are still too strung out, body too tight to even consider having anything touch him, especially Castiel’s hands. He stretches his arms while Castiel reorients himself, now seated between Dean’s spread legs, idly rubbing from his knee to his hips, nowhere near his cock. It’s calming, soothing—this, he can do. Breathing steadily, he allows his heart to settle, lets the last waves of heavy arousal leave him until he’s comfortable, calm.

He waits another minute before nodding for Castiel to continue; Castiel sneaks up to kiss him again, Dean smiling into it when Castiel grips his hips, fingers sliding down his skin. The toy’s even more intimidating now while he watches Castiel lube up one end, the black slick and gleaming in the dim light of his room. Just the thought of it buzzing inside of him leaves his stomach tight, his hole clenching around nothing; Castiel tracks the movement, smirking to himself. “Eager?”

“Just thinking,” Dean chuckles, and closes his eyes.

For hands that have killed hundreds and thousands of creatures, Castiel is surprisingly gentle when he slides the curved end of the toy inside of him, working it until the nubby base sits against his perineum. He’s never felt this full before, like every part of him is plugged tight, the head resting against what he suspects is his prostate. A suspicion Castiel confirms when he turns the device on onto the lowest setting, Dean’s back immediately arching from the pressure. “Ho—ly _fuck_ , Cas,” he laughs, delirious; hands clenched in the pillow, he rides it for a bit, both the vibration and Castiel’s hands stroking his inner thighs, the muscles clenching under his palms. “Holy _fuck_ , that’s good.”

“You like that?” Castiel asks, merely curious. Dean nods and lets out a moan when Castiel palms his balls, hot and tight in his hand. “You’re leaking, Dean. Look at yourself.”

He can’t—looking anywhere but at the inside of his eyelids isn’t even an option, not when Castiel ups the vibration again, his entire body shivering through it. He can’t even _breathe_ , not with all of the blood in his body rerouting to his cock, all attentions held elsewhere. “ _Fuck_ ,” he shudders through a moan, turning his head. “M-Move it, a little.”

Castiel complies without question and, finger tucked under the base, works the toy in and out of Dean, making sure to rub against his prostate at every pass. He clenches down on it when Castiel pulls it out entirely, the vibration loud in the room aside from his near-constant sighs and whimpers. It ceases when Castiel pushes it in again, and Dean barely holds back the resulting groan, biting his fist in a failed attempt at self control. “Wanna come,” he finds himself begging, not even ashamed to admit it. “Got me so close, babe, _please_.”

“You can come, Dean,” Castiel soothes, and replaces the vibrator fully, nestled carefully inside. Increasing the speed setting to the fourth of seven, he moves from between Dean’s legs to his side once again, kissing along his neck, that spot under his ear. “You can come like this, show me.”

He wants to. By _God_ , he wants to, his cock already on board with the plan. The toy buzzes on between his legs, almost enough sensaton to push him over, almost enough to let him streak his stomach, orgasm already curling tight. He clenches his toes in the sheets and spreads his legs to no one, hips twitching, grinding down on the pressure that threatens to break him completely, wholly. “One more,” Dean begs, eyes pinched shut. “ _God_ —one more, Cas—make it—.”

Castiel doesn't even ask, simply reaches down between his legs and ups the setting, one more time. That’s what sends Dean over, his cock spurting what has to be a _massive_ load before his entire body clenches, mouth falling open in a silent scream. Castiel touches him through it, one hand caressing his face, the other stroking down one leg until his limbs quiet, until he can finally breathe again, vision still black around the edges. His entire torso is covered in come when he finally manages to open his eyes, the vibrator still milking him for all he’s worth, fresh drops falling every few seconds.

“Tell me when you want it to stop,” Castiel says, heated but urgent.

Dean knows he has a few more seconds until his body starts to fight back, oversensitivity always leaving him in pained laughter. Thankfully, it doesn't come to that; Dean stops the buzzing himself, reaching between his legs and slowly working the now dormant toy free, his hole clenching around air. “ _Fuck_ , babe,” Dean says, almost a giggle. “Holy _shit_ , that was good.”

“I figured as much.” Castiel kisses him with a smile and leans up, elbows bracketing Dean’s head in the pillows. “Did you like that?”

Dean laughs and brings his hands around Castiel’s neck, holding him close. “We’re keeping that one,” he affirms, eyes alight. “You sure you…?”

“I don’t need it,” Castiel whispers. Stroking a hand down Dean’s flank, he rests his head against Dean’s collar, warm against his overheated skin. “I like it when you feel good. That’s enough for me.”

Dean blows a breath into Castiel’s hair and holds him close, letting his heart settle. “You’re good for me too,” he sighs. He’ll clean up later, wipe the lube and congealed come from his skin; for now, he rests with Castiel at his side, content to enjoy the rest of the morning in silence with a pleasant buzz under his skin. New anticipation, new experiences—he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on my books nonstop, but here's some smut I managed to sneak out in the meantime! Also, my SPN Reverse Bang comes out on Thursday, so get ready! Also, thanks to Muse for betaing and making funny comments!
> 
> The vibrator used is [here](https://www.spencersonline.com/product/naughty/mens-pleasure/men-s-anal-toys/rude-boy-7-speed-prostate-massager/pc/2352/c/183/sc/186/56905.uts?thumbnailIndex=62#productDetailTabs1). I really need a hobby that doesn't consist of shopping for sex toys.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


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